


Claire Temple

by DustySoul



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gender Identity, Gender or Sex Swap, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustySoul/pseuds/DustySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire Temple... wakes up in... for lack of a better phrase, "The Wrong Body". It's still defiantly her body - it's got all the scars and birthmarks and everything. It's just... the male version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claire Temple

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a post I saw on tumblr about how cis people thing about being transgender and how they should be thinking about being transgender. This is a little ficlet to reinforce that with narrative.

Alternative Summary:

One day, Claire wakes up and everyone is calls her "Charlie".

That day, Claire wants nothing more than to _scream_.

 

The body, of course, is the first thing she notices. Before she ever wakes up properly, before she opens her eyes, she knows something is different. It's not something she can pin point, at least not until she runs her hands across the hard, flat plains where there are supposed soft, genital curves. Her torso shaped differently than the night before, the center of gravity, she knows, is a higher up.

Morbid curiosity creeps in between her detached, anatomical observations and she reaches between her legs to make sure that it... goes all the way down. And-- yep.

She lets out a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding.

...Yeah.

After a moment of lying in the darkness _stunned_ she bolts out of bed and rushes to look at herself in the full length mirror.

She's still black.

A second later she feels foolish about the observation. _Of course she's still black. Why would that change._ And then, with her second observation feels vindicated in the passing concern that something else would have changed as well.

Her next thought, after a few moments of feeling confused, disoriented, and a little bit nauseous is to remember all the times in high school she and her group of friends had all joked about what the measurements of their dicks would be if they had them. She could get a ruler.

Now that's a stupid thought. Who's she going to tell? She doesn't talk to any of her old high school friends outside of reunions. The irritation at herself covers the distress letting her know how much she does not want to get a ruler, how much she just wants to think of something else and never have to examine it closely or ever again.

She wonders if anyone else would find this funny. Aren't things like this supposed to be funny? Aren't things like this _never_ supposed to happen outside of fiction?

She eyes skip across the rest of her body, trying to take herself in without catching sight of what had first caught her eye.

And then she sees the scar. The one on her knee, that she'd gotten as a child when she'd skinned it and then kept peeling of the scab so it never had the chance to heal. She'd skinned over it again, almost a year later, but the second scrape was smaller and she was able to let it heal completely. It's faded now, just like it was the last time she saw it, but it makes for a very distinctive ring.

And that's when it really sinks in that this is _her body_. She goes in search of all the other scars and birthmarks. And finds them, each and everyone.

She didn't... like switch with anyone. (A totally valid hypothesis.) This is her body... just... not. Her body.

She called Matt. He sometimes got himself caught up in weird magical shit. He might know what's happening, how to fix this.

At that last thought cold anxiety washed over and she prayer, "Dear god, please, please let this be fixable. Let it be temporary."

And, with Matt's sleepy voice on the other line of the phone, started her day (and hopefully not the rest of her life) of being called "Charlie."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message or follow me on tumblr at dusty-soul.tumblr.com


End file.
